


An Empty Horizon

by XYDamianKane



Series: Kinktober 2019 [28]
Category: DCU, Injustice: Gods Among Us
Genre: Caning, Humiliation, Immobility, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Kinktober 2019, M/M, Masters, No Sex, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-29
Updated: 2019-10-29
Packaged: 2021-01-06 05:29:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21221360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XYDamianKane/pseuds/XYDamianKane
Summary: Bruce doesn't know why he hasn't been killed yet.Clearly he's being kept around for personal reasons, he just hasn't figured out what those exactly are yet.





	An Empty Horizon

Day 28: Micro/Macro | Cum Inflation | Outdoor Sex | **Master/Mistress**

* * *

**** From what Bruce can see, the restraints look cobbled together, a patchwork rig of Kryptonian tech, Amazonian metalwork, _ some _ sort of enchantment component, and a few more familiar looking pieces. He can’t make heads or tails of it. 

He’s pretty much immobilized like this, forced onto his elbows and knees, bolted down in every conceivable way to the bench in the cell. The air is artificially cold, and he shivers against the colder metal in a sort of self-defeating instinct.

He must have been put in this setup the last time he was tranquilized.

Did Clark take his measurements when he was unconscious? Is that why the fit (over each of his limbs, around his neck, over the round of his back) is so claustrophobic?

He's blinded by a flare of panic, but can’t turn his head to confirm his suspicion that it’s somehow been welded together around him.

The silence in the room is suddenly stiller, more familiar. Bruce’s heart drops. He swallows.

“I’m not going to say it, Clark, you might as well get on with it,” Bruce snarls.

There’s a familiar swish behind him, and it’s less the stinging of the opening welts on his ass than it is the sheer force of the impact that makes him hiss.

“You never had a problem with it before,” Clark says. The words could easily be cruel, but his tone isn’t selling it--he mostly just sounds annoyed, almost petulant.

“You mean when I had reason to respect you?”

Clark sucks his teeth and the cane swishes through the air again. Every bone in Bruce’s pelvis shudders under the impact. There’s a sick noise that makes him think his hip has popped out of socket.

He’s sure he’s already bruised all over. 

Clark clearly wants something from him, or he’d be dead. It has to be more than the _ Master _ thing, that seems petty and foolish, even for Clark.

Bruce has something on him. Bruce just isn’t sure how to exploit that to make it out of this alive.

Clark hits him again.

Bruce doesn’t have it in him to untangle that knot. He’s struggling just to distract himself, to separate himself from the sensation inflicted upon him like in any other fight.

There’s no honor, no dignity in this kind of torture. Either he takes it without protest, or _ does _protest, futilely, and both are different kinds of humiliating. 

The hit comes, more sting than impact this time.

There's no pleasure in it. This sort of thing used to fill him with endorphins, make his brain buzz warm and pleasant in its own way. How could he have ever liked this?

Again, now, and the blow lands closer to the back of his balls. Bruce’s thighs strain and clench uselessly, trying to close and protect himself.

Clark must notice.

Bruce bites the inside of his cheek so hard he bleeds and prepares for the worst.

The cane clatters loudly to the floor, and Bruce has no idea what to expect next.

Clark is doesn’t move, doesn’t breathe.

(He used to breathe for Bruce’s comfort, to signal to Bruce that he was still alive--)

Bruce feels one gloved hand run over his exposed ass. It almost feels like it’s intended to be soothing. At least it’s warm, Clark always did run warm--

Bruce finally snaps, “Why are you here?”

Clark seems frozen. He doesn't respond.

Finally, his boots click against the tile as he walks away. 

He doesn't fly and Bruce wants to understand why.

There's little relief in any of it, and Bruce doesn’t hear the cell hiss shut. Whatever _this_ is isn't over.

He hasn’t acquired useful information, he's no closer to getting out, and the vast empty space of the unknown looms in his brain. It scares him more than anything else.

**Author's Note:**

> The lines between kink and violence here are WAY blurrier than they have been in any of my other fics. If you think I've tagged this incorrectly, please let me know, because I'm not sure about them either.


End file.
